Afraid of Recurrence

G'day Tammy
I was stage 3c six of thirteen nodes cancerous. I have been clear now for over fifteen years. I won't tell you not to worry but I will tell you to live your life . Time can pass you by very quickly.it really isn't about how much time we have ,it's how we choose to use it. Enjoy it,Ron.

Trubrit said:

Thank you!

I worry about reoccurance and I'm still going through the chemo. 

I will copy and past your list to my cancer file, and read it now and again to remind me, don't worry, be happy. 

I find my wrst time of worry is when I first go to bed. I have a selection of relaxing music which I play, that calms me, but its still hard at night. When its dark my thoughts grow dark. 

Worry is a normal, but it still needs for us to get ourselves in control. 

Good luck with everthing. You have come to the right place for help and support, and even love. 

 

Trubrit - Let Me Introduce You to Big Billy!

Your words caught up with me this morning:

"When its dark my thoughts grow dark."

"Dr." Sundance actually has a 'cure' for this condition...'bout the only one I still got left in my medicine bag - and it's all yours:)

I hope this helps you - after reading, you'll know what to do:)

All my hopes and wishes to you!  Now sleep a little bit better...me & Big Billy got you:)

Love/Craig

"The Story of the Man They Call Big Billy"

 Copyright © 2013 [Craig Harrison]. All Rights Reserved.

 It was late winter of 2010 and the nights were long and dark.  I had tied one on at the Infusion Center Lounge that day with yet another Folfiri Bender – which was one of the most popular chemo cocktails that they serve at the local waterin’ hole I imbibed at. 

I was sicker than the proverbial dog and all hopped on The Dex, and the 5fu pump was hanging off the headboard whirring and clicking and systematically filling me full of poison with each audible turn of that annoying sound the motor makes each time it cycles and delivers you the juice. 

 

I laid there in bed motionless hour after hour, listening to the wall clock mock me from the other side of the house with its relentless chiming that marked each passage of time – a haunting melody that became the subtle and audible reminder of yet another sleepless sixty-minute span of time that I would never get back. 

 

It must have been somewhere between 3am and 4am in the early morning – that thin layer of time that separates the night from the dawn – a time whether it is neither night nor day – a time where things can come unhinged either physically, mentally, or emotionally for those cancer combat infantry personnel who find themselves marching on in the cancer battlefields of our minds. 

 

It is affectionately known as The Witching Hour for so many a cancer patient, who find themselves in the throes of treatment – it’s a very special time when we find ourselves totally alone with nothing but our thoughts to keep us company. 

 

It can be a time of deep despair and haunted visions – or it can be a time of enlightenment where certain truths finally align themselves in the perfect order, thus providing you the clarity and understanding of that, which you’ve been searching for those many long, soul searching nights.

 

It can be a time when we’re ready to put a stamp on it and mail it in with talk about quitting – or it can be a time where we pick ourselves back up and vow to keep moving forward. 

 

The beauty of this hour of time is that it’s all ours.  The Witching Hour is where the seeds of Personal Growth are planted that will one day come to fruition and be harvested. 

 

And, it’s from this process that we grow from within from what we allow ourselves to feel and experience during this window of opportunity each evening when the house grows dark and silent and we are left with only our thoughts for company. 

 

Each night, we never know what is going to run through our heads and what we will feel and learn when we lay our heads down on the pillow each night.  That’s the beautiful aspect of this part of the journey.  There are no rules and we’re free to live out whatever random thoughts and feelings that comes into our heads. 

 

It is many things to many people – but, in its simplest form, it is a time of Reflection.   It is a special time that allows us the permission to feel, think and explore the intricacies of the disease all that comes with it. 

 

This is our unique opportunity to confront the demons that are calling out to us.  It’s a time to ask questions – and it’s also a time where we may find some answers to some of the mystery that is perplexing us. 

 

One particular night for me before the early dawn, there was a stillness and a calmness in the air that was so eerily quiet, that I could hear my thoughts rattling around in my skull, like a ping-pong game gone mad on steroids. 

 

I was tired – I felt defeated – and at that moment in time, I had finally lost my way.  And in the process of doing so, I also discovered that I had lost my inspiration as well.  By the time I realized what had happened, it was already too late. 

 

By then, Hope had already packed a suitcase and was headed out the door to join the others.  It was a complete jail break and left me laying there feeling emotionally bankrupt and destitute.   

 

I was nearly a beaten man; swaying back and forth and grasping at those imaginary ropes in the fight ring that I thought were holding me upright – sort of like the image of a latter-day Rocky Balboa, just trying to go the distance in a title-fight against such a formidable adversary such as cancer. 

 

I lay there contemplating why I was fighting so hard and for what anymore.  I was trying to justify if feeling this sick every day was worth the price to be paid anymore.  What was the point anymore if this was all there was ever going to be?

 

Then, all of a sudden, I felt this silent lucidity come into play, where I began to question whether or not that I had the toughness or the right stuff anymore to do what it takes to get back to the final round of a title-defense that I had fought and won twice prior in my fight against cancer.  

 

I thought about the line that Apollo Creed used in the movie Rocky…”Ain’t gonna’ be no re-match…”

 

My thoughts drifted to thinking that all great fighters have to lay down the gloves someday and ‘retire.’  Maybe it was time for Cancer to retire me.  Over and over I could hear the words of boxer, Roberto Duran…”No mas.”

 

For a moment or two, I seriously contemplated taking my hands off the wheel…

 

And then ‘he’ came to me.  The idea of Big Billy and the ideology of what he stood for and represented to me – and what he might represent for other cancer fighters, who found themselves at a juncture in their own fights, where they felt their strength waning and their own mental resolve beginning to weaken. 

 

So, I created this persona of a character that would carry the markings of one tough cancer fighting dude – a guy that from the looks of him would be the antithesis of what I looked like, but on the inside he still carried the same ideals and values that I shared.

 

It developed into this symbiotic relationship, where each one of us could stand on his own merit, independent of one another.  In combination, we could become this unstoppable force in the cancer universe and transform ourselves into the Dynamic Duo. 

 

Just like that, the idea for Team Sundance was formed. 

 

Who is Big Billy?

 

Simply stated, he’s the muscle behind my hustle…

 

Big Billy became my alter-ego in the cancer world.  He was born a figment of my fertile imagination on a cold, winter night in 2010 and crystallized himself into the embodiment of an image that I wanted to represent.  More importantly, he became what I wanted to feel like once more.

 

And that was one of the baddest cancer fighters there ever was – one of the best to ever play the game. 

 

I think that what I was able to do was harness this image of our inner fighting nature that we all carry with us into our battles and then was able to manifest that persona into something that was tangible and readily identifiable that could represent us all. 

 

In essence, Big Billy represents “The Fighting Side of Us…”

 

Big Billy has always been that intangible element that we can feel – but never see.

 

Until now…

 

Big Billy does live – he lives in me – and he lives in you too! 

 

Keep fighting, you can do it!

 

Luckygirl2 said:

same timeline

You and I are almost on the same timeline.  I was dx'd June 2011, right colon is history, 4 lymph nodes, 3B.  Good news is don't have to worry about apendicitis!  I have check ups every three months, due for cat scan and colonoscopy in June and my 3 month is here on the 30th - I think I worry the entire month ...  I try not too but it just creeps in and sets up house.  Every ache...good news is, I don't think about my cancer every day now..I do actually skip a few,,,which is really nice.  when you are in the oncology office every three months hard not to think about it but I wouldn't want to not be... Dr. Koch is my security blanket I think...  if its there he'll find it...  one day, you'll be doing something and it will dawn on you that the word "cancer" has not been in your thoughts for a few days and you will smile.

 

Oh, you are not negative, you are  normal, we are normal.  Or at least it is my new normal.  Best results for your scan, be sure and let us know.  Good news is wonderful to see!

 

Debbie

CT scans anxiety

I also have my yearly ct scan planned for next week. Anxiety galore ofcourse, however, if we did not have the scan we are sticking our head in the sand. IF it reoccurres, I like to know as soon as possible to kick the brute in the head as fast as possible.

I still try every day to think and live positive. Today my daughter has her brain surgery........ nervous is not even the word, I am a wreck. Thinking possitive, ofcourse, BUT, there is always that little devils voice inside my head that says... what if....!!!

Life changes after a cancer diagnosis, your thinking changes, you loose friends and find new friends.Cancer  or cancer related topics pop up in your mind every few minutes, there is no getting away from it. every little pain or twitch you start to think... this is it...is it back? It is not the knowing that we fear, it is the "what if"! I rather be told you will die that  day then keep on guessing when?. I am a doer and a planner, not being very patient either. If it returns... then I can plan en do and go forward.

So YES, every scan is a stress test by itself, I think for all of us.